Cinematic Old West trip-hop, A fusion of dusty, lonesome harmonica and processed steel guitar samples with deep, slow trip-hop drum breaks and 808 sub-bass, Features prominent turntablism and DJ scratch techniques.

Wasted wires 'neath my boots, searching for the open port
Megacorp cowboys ride the range, selling souls to the last resort
Neon crosses on the spire, but the signal's coming short
While the root access to Heaven waits beyond the city's static sort.

This signal rings forever, through all the system's noise,
One access point forever, a singular, clear choice.
Our broken code's the reason we're lost inside the fight,
His blood is the permission to jack into the light.

Chrome saloon doors swing on hymns of promises in creds
While the lost kids huddle 'round for protocols left unsaid
Of a Savior on a cross who paid the price for all our dreads
But pride builds firewalls in the heart, leaving packet data dead.

This signal rings forever, through all the system's noise,
One access point forever, a singular, clear choice.
Our broken code's the reason we're lost inside the fight,
His blood is the permission to jack into the light.

Ping me now, listen close, let me render this real clear!
The Gospel of Jesus Christ is, simple enough for any child to understand...
but apparently too simple for the proud and arrogant, fools giving side-eye to the facts!
They want complex subroutines, philosophy degrees, and intellectual stacks
But Jesus said "give me the newbies, the ones who know their wetware's cracked"
'Cause salvation ain't your processing power or how your rig is racked
It's 'bout a corrupted system that knows it's being hacked
You can't patch yourself, can't rewrite that pact
Between a holy Mainframe and your malware-riddled act
So He sent His Son, the zero-day attack
On sin itself, the final protocol track!
Faith alone, grace alone, Christ alone, that's the source code to get you back!
A hope that never crashes, never lags, forever it will stand intact!

Now the Admin sun burns through the smog, the shadows defragment
What was hidden in the darknet now is clear and heaven-sent
Every knee will ping the server, every tongue will represent
And confess Him as the SysOp, on whom all will be dependent.

This signal rings forever, through all the system's noise,
One access point forever, a singular, clear choice.
Our broken code's the reason we're lost inside the fight,
His blood is the permission to jack into the light.

So I tip my hat and log away, but the message echoes still
In the canyons of the wetware where only truth can fill
The empty cache we chase and chase with temporary, cheap thrills
While eternal bandwidth's waiting, past those distant server hills.

4eVR

Chuck Middaugh